He began to pace up and down the patio, after a time, rather impatiently. No doubt the foolish old men were holding forth at great length. They were appointing the spokesman, and they were framing the speech which he would make to David telling of their devotion to him, whether the spirit was gone or remained. They would remain; and Benjamin's prophecy had been that of a spiteful fool. Yet even if they stayed, how empty the valley would be—how hollow of all pleasure!
It was at this point in his thoughts that he heard a sound of singing down the hillside from the house of the servants—first a single, thin, trembling voice to which others were added until the song was heartened and grew full and strong. It was a song which David had never heard before. It rang and swung with a peculiarly happy rhythm, growing shriller as the old men seemed to gather their enthusiasm. The words, sung in a thick dialect, were stranger to David than the tune, but as nearly as he could make out the song ran as follows:
"Oh, Jo, come back from the cold and the stars
For the cows they has come to the pasture bars,
And the little game chicken's beginning to crow:
Come back to us, Jo; come back to us, Jo!
"He was walkin' in the gyarden in the cool o' the day
When He seen my baby Jo in the clover blossoms play.
"He was walkin' in the gyarden an' the dew was on His feet
When He seen my baby Jo so little an' sweet.
"They was flowers in the gyarden, roses, an' such,
But the roses an' the pansies, they didn't count for much.
"An' He left the clover blossoms fo' the bees the next day An'
the roses an' the pansies, but He took Jo away.
"Oh, Jo, come back from the cold and the stars
For the cows they has come to the pasture bars,
And the little game chicken has started to crow:
Come back to us, Jo; come back to us Jo!"
He knew their voices and he knew their songs, but never had David heard his servants sing as they sang this song. Their hymns were strong and pleasant to the ear, but in this old tune there was a melody and a lilt that brought a lump in his throat. And there was a heart to their singing, so that he almost saw them swaying their shoulders to the melody.
It was the writing on the wall for David.